


a cocoon round your shoulders

by orphan_account



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, featuring the two nerds being very smitten and oblivious :)), kageyama is in love with hinata and won't admit it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-04
Updated: 2015-05-04
Packaged: 2018-03-29 01:03:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3876532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>in which hinata and kageyama make a promise that they'll always be partners, together until the very end; that is, until hinata is severely injured in a match, and kageyama is left with a thousand unanswered questions in his mind.</p><blockquote>
  <p>"rosy swelling, flaming copper and carmine creeps down from his upper legs, all the way down to his knees, twisting round his ankles and bleeding in streaks of bittersweet and agony. he's been completely crushed."</p>
</blockquote>
            </blockquote>





	a cocoon round your shoulders

**Author's Note:**

> exams have been so stressful lately ^_^ this is the product of two hours' writing i've managed to squeeze into my timetable, so it's unedited, but hopefully it's still okay : )
> 
> {lowercase intended + title taken from "cocoon" by catfish & the bottlemen}  
> {tumblr: jetpackcrows}

**i.**

****three seconds. two seconds. one.  
everything's a blur, a haze, a miasma of lucid colours and bright obscurity, and hinata is soaring. soaring. he's soaring through the air, cutting through the kaleidoscope of heavy pants and bleached lights and wide eyes watching him breathlessly; and his legs curl inwards, his arms stretch outwards, his palm tenses as he readies himself for a spike. it's like it always is, right this very moment; the heated zephyr from the cheering crowd whipping past him, the thunderous applause already ringing in his ears. he can feel every muscle in his body straining, straining, pushing  _hard_  against his fragile skin, screaming at him to  _focus focus focus_ , and everything is perfect, everything is as it should be. existence jolts still and ceases to exist whenever he jumps like this, and it happens every time- he feels his heart swell in passion, thirsting for victory as he is elevated above everyone else, superior if only for a split second. he rises over the heads of all of the doubtful players, and all of the intimidating blockers, and all of the clouded uncertainty most feel towards him- _and he's free_.

 _meanwhile_. kageyama gazes at hinata in a daze, spellbound and starstruck by the boy desperately playing to win, and then he too is swept away by the overwhelming high of the game. the ball is hurtling towards him in a smooth, smooth curve, flawless, vibrantly peach and patchwork cerulean and pearly ivory; and he draws in a sharp breath as he focuses intently on its path, eyebrows furrowed, tongue flicking out slightly to wet his lips. it reaches its peak, arching in the air amongst the myriad of starry lights above it, and then begins its descent- rushing down in a flurry of rainbow hues, a spectrum of hushed anticipation- and kageyama bends his knees, slowly but surely, imitating its heart-stopping plunge. his hands fly up on their own accord, delicately strong fingers forming a diamond shape above his skull; and he watches with fire ablaze in his soul as he springs back up again, the ball finally touching his fingertips, his jagged nails just about grazing its edge and sending it skyrocketing in a crescent, and... and...

everything's a blur, a haze, a miasma of lucid colours and bright obscurity. kageyama is cold, concentrating, calculating-  _the point at which angles X and Y will meet is in four seconds, so i have to time my toss to this rhythm, three seconds, two seconds, one_ - and hinata, hinata's simply a whirlwind of overflowing energy and power, still in flight, limbs reaching out in slow motion,  _effortless_ **.**  he's a flower in bloom,  _efflorescent_ , true colours bursting all around him; and as he makes contact with the ball, everything's a blur, a haze, a miasma of lucid colours and bright obscurity.

and time. time stands still. they're an enigma, karasuno's ace duo, kageyama frozen with arms extended and the rare feeling of hope electrifying him through his wrists, his veins, his very spirit itself; and hinata is suspended in the air, eyelids squeezed tight, right hand poised tensely in position. he's the very embodiment of a held breath, slowly, slowly, and suddenly a heavy tranquility cloaks the entire gym as the audience gazes on in awe...   
and then, and then it happens. it  _happens._

hinata's palm strikes the ball. it soars, like a crow, rocketing through the universe as the eyes of hundreds follow it unwaveringly- and at long last, at long last it touches down on the other side of the court with an ear-piercing thud, stardust swirling all around it in its wake.  
a deafening silence wraps itself around the crowd. all is motionless for an instant: static, noiseless, deathly still. the petite boy with the fire hair collapses in on himself. the other team jerk to a stop, listless. kageyama is rooted to the spot.

then there's a roar, an ear-splitting roar of ecstasy as the throng erupts like thunder, like lightning; and there's blood pounding in kageyama's ears, sharp adrenaline shooting through his muscles, triumph consuming his soul as he looks around at his teammates, each and every one of them elated. suga's sporting the most brilliant of smiles, star-like and glowing and bright enough to grow flowers, and daichi's looking at him with the tenderest look kageyama's ever seen in his life. next to them on the court, the bench is in a frenzy, gushing noisy cheers and holding up thumbs-ups, and even kiyoko and yachi have gone wild, screaming and shouting and tearing up in joy.  

all kageyama can hear is the holler, the noisy applause and yells coming from hundreds of thrilled onlookers, chanting in rhapsody-  _karasuno! karasuno! karasuno!_ \- and he can't stop himself, he can't stop a radiant grin from gracing his features and spreading widely from cheek-to-cheek. his visage is dusted blossom-pink and he feels laughter slipping out from between his lips as he runs, almost glides towards hinata, who's still crumpled on the floor. "we won!" he nearly shouts, voice unnaturally high-pitched and tinged with buzzing euphoria, with sweet intoxication. "hinata! we  _won_! we actually won!"

everything's so sudden, but then it seems to drain, the excitement evaporating like scorching-hot steam. hinata doesn't move a muscle, doesn't even twitch, and kageyama leans down after a moment, panic suddenly poisoning his consciousness- and he stares.  
_fuck_.  
hinata's body is limp, loose, almost lifeless. he's lying there, his limbs knotted and tangled with each other in a way they shouldn't be; muted red, like anisettes of lacquer discolouration, like the crimson rays of a sunset blurring into each other colloquially. rosy swelling, flaming copper and carmine creeps down from his upper legs, all the way down to his knees, twisting round his ankles and bleeding in streaks of bittersweet and agony. his veins are prominent and highlighted in glistening cherry-wine, and the rips of his injuries are so, so vivid against the pale of his skin. it's as though there's a cocoon round his shoulders, protecting him from the horrors of the outer world; and it's beautiful, it's terrifying. he's been completely crushed.

hinata looks up at kageyama, after, raising his matted head in euphoric anguish; and his eyes weave tales of raw pain, of bitter shock, of utter misery. nevertheless, he manages to muster up a watery, sorrowful grin, orbs shining dangerously and heart threatening to shatter at any minute.  
"yes," he whispers, in a small, agonised voice, and kageyama can't breathe.  
"yes, kageyama. you won."  
_shit._

**ii.**

just one day ago, they'd made a promise.

it had been after volleyball practice, walking home on the beautiful edge of ugly; just the two of them in the world, black silhouettes against lingering greens and dark yellows and spindly trees hanging low. hinata had been picking flowers, his fingers lacing broken twigs and sticks together, and he'd been wearing a dishevelled smile like cracked mosaic and iridescent stained-glass.  
_  
beautiful_.  _terrifying_.

the evening had been light, sky painted washed-out amber and golden bronze, and still kageyama had thought that hinata was the brightest thing to look at in the world. hinata, with those flaming solar rays twining into his hair and setting him aglow; hinata, with his annoying exclamations and a smile that could bring down skylines-  _metaphorically_ , of course. he was beautiful in a quiet way, and wonderful in a loud way, and it was everything kageyama both loathed and had come to eventually love; and he was hopelessly smitten.

as it so often happened, kageyama had been hit unexpectedly, almost knocked to the ground by a rush of overwhelming affection. it was a pure warmth, a sort of tender inclination towards the other boy- hinata was his weakness, and he hated, hated,  _hated_  it- but it was there, swelling up in his gut and grazing in the most pleasant way possible at his heart.  
_(he didn't hate hinata.)_  
"dumbass," he'd said, piercing into the silence hanging between their bodies and surprising the two of them. it had been shocking for him to even talk, let alone start a conversation itself- but then again, hinata had been the cause of him doing some  _very_  shocking things, things like actually thinking about stuff that wasn't volleyball and dwelling about certain people at unholy hours of the night.  
_(certain people with orange hair and loquacious beams, of course. obviously.)_  
he'd been interrupted in his thoughts by a noisy, annoying, stupid,  _(fucking_   _gorgeous_ _)_  voice.   
"are you okay, kageyama? are you  _legit_  trying to start a conversation with me? holy crap, i better note the day down!" hinata had hollered. kageyama hadn't been amused.  
"shut the hell up, jerkface." he'd grumbled, face ashen and expression stoic like sour milk. "i'm never trying again, if you're going to act like that about it."  
" _nononono_ , kageyama, i loved it! please continue! although... try  _not_  starting conversations with bad insults, next time..."  
a giggle.  
"fuck off, you knob-head."  
he'd cuffed him upside the head.

they'd continued walking in now-awkward reticence, the quiet so heavy that they were unable to even make eye contact. after a while of roaming, the atmosphere had finally been permeated by an insistent whistle from hinata, who'd grabbed kageyama by his jacket collar and solidly yanked him down to his height. kageyama's heart had jumped up into his throat, then, and his tongue had gone dry as he'd stared into the decoy's eyes, pulse erratic and mind swimming with too many stray sentiments for his liking.

"what are you doing, dumbass?" he'd said,  _panic suddenly poisoning his consciousness-_  but it hadn't been what he'd thought it had been, and everything back then had been okay. it had been okay. unlike the next day, when hinata would be damaged, breaking,  _broken_  like a porcelain doll, shattered into pieces on the floor of the gym.  
"just putting this on your head," he'd responded with a cheeky grin, placing a tiny, lopsided flower-crown- _thingy_  atop kageyama's charcoal-soft fringe. the setter had sighed, retreating instantly while trying not to let his lips curve upwards.  
"thanks. _not_."  
"whatever. oh, and i also wanted to ask you a question, if that's okay?"  
sighing had ensued. "yeah, fine. what, dumbass?"  
"did you mean what you said about us being together, a couple weeks ago?"  
" _what_?!" kageyama had openly gaped. "w- what do you mean? what are you even  _on_  about half the time, huh? what are you talking about?"  
"stop getting so defensive, jerk! you're so mean to me all the time!" hinata had shouted, looking frustrated, his tiny face all scrunched up and red and...  _holy shit, he's cute. shit shit shit shit shit._  
kageyama internally slapped himself.  _what inappropriate thoughts, this is too saucy for me to be thinking- where's my dignity, my self-respect gone? cute? never!_    
"what do mean by 'together', then, idiot? i'm not marrying you and living with you forever, if that's what you're getting at."  
" _god_ , shut it with the sarcasm, and don't tell me you bloody forgot already," hinata groaned, dramatically slapping his forehead with his ( _cute as hell_ ) hands.  
_shit. shit. i need to stop thinking about him like that. this is going nowhere.  
_ "you promised that we'd reach the top together, be the very best at volleyball in all of japan. did you mean that?"  
"holy shit hinata, i didn't promise that, don't twist it! and it was such a long time ago, you're... you're really freaking creepy for remembering." kageyama spat.  
_(he thought about it everyday, himself.)_  
hinata had simply laughed merrily, unfazed by the teasing.  
"promise me now, then. it's a vow, so you can't break it!"  
"a vow? this isn't some film, dumbass. do you want to prick our fingers and share our blood, too? so we can brothers forever?"  
"brothers? eww, gross," hinata had snickered before holding out his pinky finger with a sincere expression on his face. "so how about it, then?"  
 "you want to fucking transfer your  _blood_  into me, you turd?"  
" _fuck_ \- have you never heard of a basic  _pinky promise_ , you pleb?"  
"yes i have, and i'm not doing it with you, shit head."  
"don't be a fuck face!"  
"you're the fuck face!"  
"no, you are!"  
 "i'm going to goddamn murder you one day, asshole."

_(after some wrestling, kageyama had eventually given in and pinky promised him in the end. he'd terribly regretted the fireworks he'd felt, though, the thrill that had jolted through his spine when they'd finally touched.)_

**iii.**

****and then, and then; _we were supposed to win and reach the top together_ , is all kageyama can think when he abruptly tears himself away from his heat-of-the-moment musings.  
_how are we going to do that now?  
_ hinata's lying in a heap just in front of him ( _his matted head raised in euphoric anguish, his eyes weaving tales of raw pain_ ) and all he can possibly comprehend is the stupid, stupid fucking  _promise_  they'd made a day ago. he screams at himself, shrieks at his own stupid fucking consciousness for being so apathetic, so unable to help hinata-  _move, damn it, why can't i move? why can't i move?!_ \- and he watches the orange-haired boy cowering in blistering torment. and he wants to  _move._  
he wills himself to just dislocate, to  _move fucking move_  and  _help him_. hinata needs help, but kageyama is stone-still, petrified and fixed to the spot in horror, and  _he can't do anything, he can't think anything, he can't even fucking move, the useless goddamn shithead._  his lungs feel knotted and fractured, somehow, as if there's a brick tied to them dragging them down into the very pit of his stomach; and there's a lump in the back of his throat which is growing bigger and bigger, bigger and bigger and  _bigger_  until he can't sense himself breathing anymore. fuck.

he hears himself let out a stifled sob as suddenly, an unseen force is forcing him to look away from the struggling hinata, who's curled up like a foetus, the imaginary cocoon still tight around his shoulders. suga races past him panicking, and the rest of the team follow in a rush; closing in on him, howling for help and medical attention and  _oh shit oh shit oh shit he's injured he's really seriously injured oh god_ \- and amongst it all, hinata manages to chuckle. he goddamn  _chuckles_  as his ankles rapidly bruise violet-red and cobalt and green, as his vessels weep with clotted blood that seems to also clot the jet-haired setter's heart. the team are drowned by an upsurge of crushing anxiety, and hinata lifts his head up again, but this time his penetrating glare sears into kageyama's back. it brands him for life.  _why aren't you helping me_? 

"it's nice to see that you guys actually care so much." he mutters instead as tanaka and noya hitch him up, slinging his skinny arms across their shoulders- and they gaze on in bewilderment at the boy who's been nearly snapped in half, yet is still talking normally as ever. "i'll be okay!  _please_  chill your beans!"   
  
as he speaks, heated tears leak out from the corners of his eyelids.  _yeah, right_ , kageyama thinks.

the crowd is murmuring again, although now it's not in celebration but in concern and curiosity and unease. the trio begin to slink past kageyama, but then he finally forces himself to swivel around and stare at them, glare dredged in bitterness. "let me take him," he chokes out, watching surprise etch onto their faces and shock register in their eyes. "i'll take him from here."  
silently, tanaka and noya pull hinata up, passing his exhausted, lethargic body to the weary setter. kageyama doesn't hesitate to haul him up, up,  _up_  into his arms, pressing the smaller boy's frame tight to his, straightening up almost instantly after that.   
he strides across the gym with ease, disappearing around a corner.  
tanaka turns to noya with a thousand questions hanging off of his lips, but stops when he sees the look on the libero's face.  
"shit is about to go down." he says.

**iv.**

the medical room is pristine, lab-white, reeking of good health and endless pining and unheard prayers. the air is thick, infected with disinfectant and contaminated with good will and acidic hope, and the smell of fabric plasters is heavy as kageyama leans back on his plastic chair and yawns gruffly.  
"i'm sorry." hinata murmurs, from the thin bed across the room.

he's weak as a mouse. his legs have been elevated on a thousand fluffy-clean pillows, wrapped tensely in stoic bandages and unrelenting pity, and there are little patches of red blossoming through like tiny blood-flowers. roses, perhaps, or some other type of fire-bright bloom. whatever it is, kageyama doesn't know, and he doesn't care; all he cares about, and all he wants, is for hinata to stop apologising, to stop blaming himself for his injury. he doesn't give a shit about flowers.  
"stop apologising, and stop blaming yourself for your injury." he says. it's blunt. hinata doesn't seem to get the point.  
"sorry," he sighs, and his face is small, eyes bloodshot from crying in pain. "it's harder than you think, y'know, bakageyama."  
a pause. then- "it's not, hinata... it's really, really not."

they fall into an uncomfortable silence, awkward, tantalising, whole words and sentences and topics swirling about in their minds but never spilling out. hinata turns his skull into his pillow, twists into himself in his too-big medical gown, hissing slightly at the sting that charges through his ankles as he moves. he shifts to face kageyama, who's stock-still on his seat, mouth pressed tight but orbs alive with indistinguishable flames.  
they're both motionless for a while, but then the quiet is pierced by a chilling idea.  
"what if i can't play volleyball again, kageyama?" hinata says in a grave voice. and kageyama looks at him.

in that moment, a thousand thoughts seem to surge through him, electrocuting his soul, a toxic fusion of venomous worry and apprehension and heartbreak. what  _if_  hinata can't play volleyball properly ever again? what if kageyama's left alone, completely detached, unwanted and unneeded by all on his side of the court? what if hinata can never jump again, feel the satisfying ache of a successful spike on his palm, view the view on the other side with that feeling of elation?  
  
_it's beautiful. it's terrifying. it would completely crush me_ , kageyama thinks.  
  
"hinata, if you were never able to play volleyball again, then you'd never be able to play volleyball again." is what kageyama decides to say, his face impassive, tone devoid of any feeling.  
before hinata can start crying again, though, he continues; continues in that same monotone, with that same vacant expression. it's possibly the longest thing he's ever said to hinata without slapping him or smacking him above the head.  
"even so, dumbass, i wouldn't quit volleyball, if that's what you're thinking. i'd continue, and i'd reach the top on my own, but it'd be entirely for your sake; and, i'd feel like you were there with me, too, because... just because, okay? and... and-" he gulps, voice catching in his throat and strangling him, "-and, i wouldn't leave you for all that while, you understand? we'd still be... i don't know, partners, so don't panic your dumb ass off, all right? i promised you, and i'll keep that promise, stupid. i mean... i mean..."  
  
hinata stares up at him, saffron strands of hair spread all around him, eyes wide with wonder. his cheeks are flushed pink, and he's stunning. kageyama backs away.

_it's beautiful. it's terrifying._

"i'm leaving you now, though, because i'm thirsty." he bursts out, and flees the room, his own cheeks tarnished crimson; and he races past tanaka and noya without even noticing the two troublemakers hidden against the wall, bodies slumped in awe.  
"wow." noya says. he turns to meet tanaka's look of confusion- and shrewd joy.  
_i told you so._  
"wow. " noya repeats.   
"shit really  _did_  go down."

**Author's Note:**

> kageyama: i'm thirsty  
> me: ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) for hinata's sweet love bbs
> 
> in all srsness thanks for reading!! comments and kudos keep me motivated and give me life;; have a nice day / night (≧∀≦)


End file.
